


Juniper and Pine

by ClareGuilty



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breeding, Creampie, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 20:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28749564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareGuilty/pseuds/ClareGuilty
Summary: “I believe you were supposed to be begging for my forgiveness?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.Your eyes widened.“Go on then,” Geralt shoved you to your knees. “Beg.”-AKA Geralt/reader PWP
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Comments: 11
Kudos: 148





	Juniper and Pine

**Author's Note:**

> Im so glad Geralt is sterile bc i hate pregnancy but love breeding kinks. I barely know anything about the witcher but I know I wanna suck this man dry like a capri sun.

You found him at the inn. Shrouded in shadow, tucked away in the back just as always. Two flagons before him, one empty and the other half full. He had likely already eaten his fill.

You sat across from him, ordering your own food and drink. Neither of you spoke.

He watched you. Mostly hidden by your cloak, he watched your hands as you cut your meat and sipped your ale. Caught a glimpse of your eyes when you chanced to meet his gaze.

Tension radiated from him. The set of his shoulders, the clench of his jaw. Icy rain pelted against the nearby window. The wind groaned lowly outside.

A group of men erupted in spontaneous cheers on the other side of the inn, and he turned quickly to glare at them unnoticed before turning back to his intent study of you.

So you studied him right back. Watching him from beneath the hood of your cloak as you ate. The meat wasn’t as warm as you would have liked but it was much appreciated after your many days of travel.

He hadn’t shaved in a few days. And silver scruff was filling in along his jaw. His hair was pulled back away from his face, and you watched the crease in his forehead occasionally deepen as he considered you. He was unarmored, though he still had with him a sword smaller than the greatswords he usually traveled with. His arms were bare, his sleeves pushed up to the elbow, and his dark shirt was half unfastened down the front. He must have been unaffected by the cold winds and rain that had overtaken you on your journey.

Your plate was cleared. Your cup was empty. You handed the barkeep your coins and offered your sweetest smile. Still, they scurried away when he stood, looming behind you. He had pulled his own cloak on, and you could feel the heat of him against your back.

You walked in front, but he was leading you. As you navigated the muddy, moonlit streets, he silently directed you. A heavy wooden door, a cold dark corridor. His footsteps behind you. You stepped into the room and heard the bolt set in place.

You unfastened your cloak, folding it neatly and laying it across the back of a chair.

“You were supposed to arrive at sundown,” he said. You glanced to see him standing before the fire, eyes focused on the flames. They reflected the light like molten gold.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. A storm slowed me down.” It wasn’t a lie. The weather had not been kind the last few days of your journey. You unfastened your belt, leaving it with your cloak, and pulled the plaits from your hair, combing your finger through the strands.

“Did you keep to the river?” he asked.

You hadn’t.

You were glad you were turned away from him so he couldn’t see your face. You know he had asked you to travel along the water, keeping to the valley. He was right that it was safer, but there were reasons for you to travel through the forest. Reasons he disapproved of.

Fingers shaking, you started on the lacing of your surcoat. 

He stepped away from the fire, moving to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You leaned back against him, relaxing as he pressed his nose to your hair. His hands took over for yours as he undid the lacing. You trailed your fingers over his arms.

“I smell the spruce of the mountains,” he said.

You froze.

“Juniper.” He inhaled again, breathing in the scent of the forest that you had unwittingly woven into your hair.

He loosened the last of your laces and placed his hands over yours, holding you by your wrists.

“I can smell the North on you.”

Damn witchers. Damn them and their ridiculous senses. You tried to tug away from his hold, but he held you still.

“You disobeyed me,” he said. “And then you lied to me. Your heart hasn’t stopped racing.”

The rapid beat of your heart was only partially because of your dishonesty. He just had that effect on you. Surely he would know that by now.

“Geralt-”

He spun you quickly, backing you against the wall and leaning forward until his gaze was level with yours. His knuckles pressed to your throat, forcing you to lift your chin. “I told you it’s dangerous to travel the mountains alone.”

“I had to go,” you insisted. “It didn’t take me any longer to travel, and I made it back just fine.”

“And you thought I wouldn’t know?” His voice was low, a rumbling growl right beside your ear.

“I thought it would be best to ask forgiveness than permission.” You raised your head, firm in your decision.

“Of course,” Geralt scoffed. “It was foolish of me to even try and stop you.”

“It was,” you agreed. You moved to step forward, to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest. You had missed him, and you wanted to be close to him. He kept you pinned to the wall.

“I believe you were supposed to be begging for my forgiveness?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Your eyes widened. 

“Go on then,” Geralt shoved you to your knees. “Beg.”

Your knees would surely bruise from how hard you hit the floor. You reached forward to brace yourself on his thighs. He was watching you with smug satisfaction, already reaching to remove his belts and unfasten his trousers.

You watched his hands, eager for what was to come. Your lips were already parted, tongue swiping over them unconsciously. Geralt chuckled and pulled his cock free.

You stroked him gently at first, swiping your thumb over the tip and squeezing all the way down to the base. He was so thick your fingers couldn’t meet around him, but you didn’t mind. You loved the way his hips moved as you twisted your wrist. His stomach tensed and he inhaled with a hiss.

He quickly grew bored of just your hand, though. His fingers threaded through your hair before he tugged sharply, pulling you towards his cock. You wrapped your lips around him obediently. Slowly, he pulled you farther down his length. Each movement of your tongue or lips earned you a reaction from him, and you turned your eyes up to watch his expression change. 

"You're going to take it all," he said, his voice low and rough.

You moaned, eager to do exactly as he said. He rocked his hips forward at the same time he pulled you in by your hair, and you were silenced as he forced his cock down your throat.

It was rough. Punishing. Exactly what you had earned by disobeying him. You weren't sure that obedience was worthwhile when this is what you got from going against his orders. You loved the scratch of his calloused fingers against your scalp and the low moans that escaped him every time you wrapped your lips around the base of his cock. He was taking his pleasure however he wanted, selfishly fucking your mouth.

And you were dripping down your thighs with arousal. Geralt was so strong and ruthless -- but rarely with you. It was seldom you got to see him this way and you loved it. He must have missed you while you were away.

"You’re an eager little whore aren’t you,” he growled, holding you down on his cock so he could fuck your throat. “Disobedient. Stubborn. Look at you.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, cheeks hot and flushed as you let him use you.

“I’m close,” he groaned, eyes fluttering shut and head tipping back. His pace quickened, and then faltered. You held as still as you could as he finished down your throat.

He pulled away as gently as possible, carding his fingers through your disheveled hair as you gasped and coughed. You nearly collapsed on the stone floor, but he was quick to catch you, taking you into his arms and pulling you to his chest. You let your fingers trail over the skin exposed along his collar. He pressed his lips to your hairline, carrying you to the wide, low bed that occupied the far wall. You pulled him down alongside you before he could get very far.

“I need you,” you whispered, voice raspy. He let slip one of his rare smiles, pointed teeth gleaming in the low light, and you did your best to commit it to memory.

“I can’t believe you took the mountain path in such a short amount of time,” he said, stretching out long on the bed and pulling you to lay against his chest.

“I didn’t want you to know. It only takes four days to travel through the valley.”

“Yes, and it takes six or eight to take the mountains. It’s impressive really.” His fingers absently searched out any bare skin they could reach, tracing idle shapes into your skin. “You’re nothing but trouble.”

“I keep things exciting,” you teased. “But maybe I could put in a little more work to earn your forgiveness.” You let your hand trail over his chest, across his hard stomach and back over the fasten of his trousers.

He raised an eyebrow. You could tell he was interested from the way his cock twitched beneath your palm. Sitting up, you removed the rest of your clothes. Geralt’s eyes never left you. It wasn’t until he caught sight of the glistening mess between your thighs that he moved.

He was on you before you blink, looming over your back as he pressed a hand between your legs. “I could smell that you wanted me, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” He rubbed your pussy with the pads of his fingers. “You’re so needy. Like a bitch in heat.” His voice was right in your ear, warm breath fanning over your skin.

You whined, rocking your hips against his hand. He pulled away just long enough to drag his shirt over his head and fling it away. His teeth latched onto your shoulder lightly as he pushed his trousers off as well. He pressed his cock against your ass, chuckling low as you pushed back to meet him, desperate to be filled.

“Geralt, please,” you moaned.

“Ah, so now you beg.” His voice was light and you wished you could see his smile. He settled his hands on your hips, lining himself up and sinking into you with a slow thrust of his hips. God, he was big. “You want me to breed you? To fill you up? Is that what you think you deserve?”

He was enjoying himself. He wasn’t usually so talkative, and you loved the sound of his voice in your ear as he pounded into you.

“Yes, please,” you nodded. He pressed you into the bed, pinning you beneath him and holding your hips so he could fuck you as hard as he liked. It was a blinding, delirious pleasure that you let yourself fall into, surrounded by Geralt, safe, protected. 

He pulled you from your haze by reaching to press two fingers to your clit. You came almost immediately. He didn’t let up as you shook through your orgasm, clenching around his cock and crying out in pleasure.

“That’s it,” he said, never slowing the pace of his hips. “You’re going to come for me again.”

It didn’t seem possible. You were already so overwhelmed. But he changed the motion of his fingers, and you felt it building again. He was getting close as well. You could tell by the way he occasionally slowed to savor the feeling of you around him, almost immediately followed by a blinding pace as he chased his own pleasure.

His grip on your hip tightened, his teeth sinking into your shoulder once more as he rutted against you. The sharp sting of his canines made you gasp. Spurred on by his own impending orgasm, he pressed harder to your clit. Your eyes rolled back as his rough fingers, slick with your own arousal, dragged you to a second climax.

He came as you did. His hips pressed tightly against yours as you shuddered and collapsed beneath him. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, filling you with his seed.

A long moment of quiet, just the sound of your heaving breaths and the crackle of the fireplace. You melted onto the bed, stretching your limbs out long and sinking into a blissed out daze. Geralt wasn’t much better, laying half on top of you with his cock still buried inside. His breathing was evening out and you feared he would fall asleep.

“Geralt,” you mumbled half-heartedly.

“Mhm,” he responded, chest rumbling with the sound. You thought he was going to ignore you, but he moved after a second, pulling out of you with a hiss and searching for a way to clean up your mess. You rolled over, listening to your pulse gradually quiet and slow.

It wasn’t much later that you were beneath the coverlet, once again nestled against Geralt’s side as he lay still. You weren’t sure if he was sleeping, his eyes were closed and his breaths so even and slow. You admired the softness in his features that you almost never got to see. It was only at times like this that you could catch him without a stern expression.

“What are you looking at,” he asked, not opening his eyes.

“You.” You splayed a palm over his chest. “I like it when you look happy.”

“I am happy,” he said, not moving. “You make me happy.”

You were glad he wasn’t looking so he couldn’t see the effect his words had on you. Your face grew hot, and you couldn’t hide your giddy smile. Curling tighter against him, you rested your head against his chest and let your eyes drift closed. “You make me happy, too,” you whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are greatly appreciated! I can't wait to get more involved in this fandom <3
> 
> I have a ton more fics on my [Tumblr](http://www.clareguilty.tumblr.com) (including more witcher content)
> 
> I'm also around on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/Clare_guilty)
> 
> You may be asking: "he says spruce not pine" and to that I tell you that the pining is happening in their hearts.


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